


the sound of your piano (it echoes my name)

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Kuroo plays the piano, M/M, mini-timeline fic, their friendship is so beautiful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>The Kuro Kenma knew was loud, with messy hair, awkward limbs, chasing after a worn-out volleyball with the widest of grins on his face. This Kuro, the one sitting before the piano delicately plucking the keys, this Kuro was quiet, still, almost elegant. Kenma was transfixed.</i>"</p><p> </p><p>or, kuroo playing the piano is something that kenma treasures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sound of your piano (it echoes my name)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [risquetendencies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/gifts).



> for [@risquetendencies](http://risquetendencies.tumblr.com/), happy birthday, friend!!

The Kuroo family lives in the apartment next door. Kenma had tired himself out crying when they moved in, so he’d missed the introductions. He knew that his mom made fast friends with Kuroo-san, enough so that they were trading recipes and inviting each other for tea. He knew that they had a son around his age, and that they were the only two kids still in primary school in the whole apartment complex. But Kenma didn’t meet Kuro until later.

The first time Kenma met Kuro, the older boy immediately dragged him out to play volleyball. Kenma didn’t much care for physical exertion, so he associated the ever-grinning boy with hot afternoons spent chasing around a ball, loud and excitable, everything that he was not.

Until the first time Kenma was invited into the Kuroo household. In the living room, across from the cabinets, stood a second-hand upright. At first glance it’s nothing special, covered by draping cloth and looking more like decor than a working instrument. Then, after telling Kenma to sit on the sofa, Kuro pulled out the bench, and lifted the cover of the keyboard. 

It’s as if he’d transformed into another person. 

The Kuro Kenma knew was loud, with messy hair, awkward limbs, chasing after a worn-out volleyball with the widest of grins on his face. This Kuro, the one sitting before the piano delicately plucking the keys, this Kuro was quiet, still, almost elegant. Kenma was transfixed.

When the last note sounded, Kuro turned back towards Kenma. His grin was shakier than usual, as if seeking for approval. Kenma could only clap his hands, eyes wide.

Kuro’s smile was full of pride and relief, but it was the prettiest thing Kenma had ever seen.

 

 

From then on, Kuro playing the piano was a fact that Kenma treasured. The way that the older boy can go from “Toss to me, Kenma!” to “Let me play you a song, Kenma,” is something that Kenma never tires of. 

When Kuro quit his piano lessons for volleyball in middle school, Kuroo-san was devastated. Secretly, Kenma was, too. But Kuro positively glowed on the court, so naturally, Kenma followed. 

Sometimes, when they came home after a long practice, Kuro would sit at the piano, beckoning Kenma closer. Kenma grew used to playing his games with the sound off, the soft notes of “Clair de Lune” washing over him into a calm half-sleep. 

Kuro’s fingers still stumbled over the scales, but Kenma didn’t mind. Sometimes, Kenma would even put down his game to watch the other play. Kuro’s profile was a familiar sight, but the way he was bent over the ivory keys, the sharp concentration tracing his face---Kenma found himself studying Kuro as if the other boy was a new level on his games. He imprinted the sight to his mind. 

And when Kuro’s hands lifted off the keyboard, Kenma would sit back up, soft eyes on him until Kuro drifted over and folded himself next to Kenma. Without the sound of the piano, the living room was quiet. But with Kuro next to him and the echo of Debussy lingering in the air, it was a tranquil kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that was warm, lulling Kenma to sleep. He’d close his eyes, and smile.

 

 

From what Kenma could tell, Kuro’s musical talents remained a secret from the rest of their friends. It wasn’t as if Kuro went out of his way to keep it a secret, but more likely that it just never came up. Kenma didn’t mind it, though. It was nice, being privy to such a secret, as if he was special. That Kuro might only play for him was a thought that brought pleasure and just the slightest twinge of guilt to Kenma.

On a day when there was no scheduled practice, Kenma made his way upstairs through the empty halls until he reached the music room. He could hear the faint sounds of what might be the theme song to a Ghibli movie through the closed door. Quietly, he pushed the door open and slid inside.

Kuro sat at the piano, facing the window. He swayed slightly as his arms reached far and over and over. Keeping his footsteps light, Kenma walked closer. He sat down under the open windows, watching Kuro. Kuro’s eyes were closed, his hands moving almost freely, only occasionally hitting a wrong note. His lips were turned down slightly. Kenma closed his own eyes, silent, until the music abruptly stopped.

Kuro didn’t look up. His hands fell into his lap, and Kenma watched as he twisted his fingers together. A habit that Kenma would have recognized as nervous on himself, but on Kuro, it’s frustration. 

“We’ll go to nationals next year,” Kenma said into the silence.

One side of Kuro’s mouth lifted up. “We should have gone this year.”

“Maybe. But next year you’ll be captain.” Kenma stood, stepping closer until he was at the bench. He reached out, and almost instinctively, Kuro leaned into him. “We’ll go to nationals next year,” Kenma repeated. “You’ll lead us there.”

Kuro hummed. He stretched his hands in front of him, spreading his long fingers wide--- “Yeah. I’ll take you to nationals, Kenma.”

 

 

Raising an adventurous kid like Kuro must have been hard on Kuroo-san, Kenma mused. Even though she wanted him to continue to play piano, but now he was conquering the volleyball courts and learning how to spike and standing up to block incoming spikes. 

Amused, he watched Kuro trying to tap on his phone next to him, his bandaged fingers getting in the way. Having to sit out during the second and third sets of a game really put a damper on his mood. Kenma turned off his game, before standing and moving towards the piano.

“Kenma?”

Kenma didn’t reply, instead focusing on opening the keyboard lid and pulling out the bench. He sat down and took a moment trying to figure out which key was the right one.

“Two more to the left,” Kuro’s voice came right beside him, and Kenma frowned slightly at the other. Begrudgingly, he slid over to allow Kuro to sit beside him.

Having found the middle C, Kenma raised his hand, and very clumsily, began hammering out a childhood melody. Kuro watched him, a small smile starting on his face, even when Kenma guessed the wrong note and had to start over. It was hard, like mashing buttons on a boss level that refused to let him pass, but seeing Kuro’s smile was more than reward enough.

 

 

Using his spare key, Kenma let himself into the Kuroo’s apartment. Immediately, he heard the familiar tune of one of his game OSTs. He slipped off his shoes, heading into the living room.

Kuro looked the same. His back was as broad as Kenma remembered it, the slight tilt of his head as his right hand reached the high tinkling notes. For a moment, Kenma remained standing in the middle of the room, just watching. Even after all these years, he never did lose his awe for this sight.

Hands pausing, Kuro glanced back at him, his lips pulling up into a familiar smirk. He jerked his head lightly, gesturing for Kenma to come closer. Kenma did, sliding onto the bench next to him. 

“Hey,” Kuro said, his hands picking up the melody again. “I missed you.”

Kenma leaned his head on the other boy’s shoulders. “Welcome home, Kuro.”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tweeter or tumble @puddingcatbae!!


End file.
